Apathy's Chill
by TARDISbluu
Summary: When he could take it no longer, and no longer cared about what happened to him in the afterword. One-shot. Dark!Harry, Grey!Harry. Warnings: 2 uses of strong language, mentions of a brief past mental/verbal taunting/torture session. High T, to be safe.


**Disclaimer: All applicable rights go to J.K. Rowling and whoever the heck else can legally claim Harry Potter... I don't own a single fraction of it.**

He smiled coldly as the idea solidified in his mind. No, they would never forget him. He had been famous before, yes, and likely already unforgettable to them. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, after all. But no, the reason for his lasting memory was going to change. He despised the name Boy-Who-Lived. Or rather, he despised what people thought of him because of it. They wanted him to be their _hero_. Their _saviour. _

They were all utter fools.

Strange – now that he thought about it, he supposed if he had actually been a Slytherin, he would only be helping their reputation for being evil.

_Too bad for the Gryffindors,_ he thought sarcastically. _But they can get over it. Maybe the heat'll let up on the Slytherins, then._ But the next moment he thought, _No. Of course it won't. They're all too stupid to see that truth._

But he was certainly going to make a statement, today. Oh yes, he would. He blamed Dumbledore entirely for the shit he'd gone through the past 15 years of his life. For one, he didn't have to make him live with Dursleys, who'd starved, neglected, and occasionally beaten him, while spoiling "Dudders." The rest of the wizarding world hadn't had a say in that – hell, they hadn't even known where he was, so why couldn't he have gone to Remus? It shouldn't have mattered that Remus was a werewolf.

Secondly, If Dumbledore had actually been honest with him from the beginning about his connection to Voldemort, and had perhaps taught him Occlumency himself instead of actually trusting _Snape_, of all people, to teach it to him, Sirius might still be alive.

In fact, why did Sirius have to go Azkaban in the first place? Dumbledore seemed to be unnaturally good at reading people and situations for the truth –loathe as Harry was to admit it to himself- so why hadn't he even suspected that Sirius had a good reason to kill Peter? Why would he believe that Peter would suddenly get the motivation to change his pathetic cowardly ways to go after Sirius, his "former best friend?" It made no sense. Dumbledore was the chief of the Wizengamot! He could have at least gotten them to do a Vertiserum test!

Suffice to say, Harry was angry. He was enraged, in fact. He hated Dumbledore. He hated the wizarding world. He hated Voldemort. He hated everyone, in fact.

_Fuck them_, Harry thought to himself. _They can save themselves. Or at least, attempt to. Likely my betrayal with destroy their every hope and motivation, and they'll end up losing to Voldemort. But I don't care. They can all go to hell. They're just as bad as he is!_

At this very moment, Harry was walking down the lane of Privet Drive. He was leaving behind, at the house of Number 4, the bodies of 3 muggles. He hadn't used magic to kill them, of course, as that would have alerted the Ministry. No – he had captured them, one at a time, while they were alone. He snuck up on Dudley from behind in the hallway, while his Aunt was outside checking the mail – which she had for some blessed reason not wanted Harry to get that time. And he got her, also from behind, after she came inside. He got Vernon when he'd gotten home from work. It was too easy.

He'd had a bit of fun shoving the fact that he was going to kill them in their faces, drawling out every single reason in which he hated their guts, and that if they had actually treated him like a real family would've, they wouldn't be dying that night.

But they did die. He didn't torture them physically, though he did threaten it, making them sweat. No, he wasn't quite that demented, yet. But he might be in a few years.

He turned the corner, making his way down the next street in Little Whinging, to the place where he knew the wards officially stopped. He had actually taught himself how to Apparate, since he was much more magically powerful than first believed. Turns out Dumbledore had put a block his magic when he was a baby. Apparently he must not have wanted the extraordinary power getting to his head – big surprise, there. He knew he was lucky to have not splinched himself when he was first learning, but the point was that he didn't do it, so it didn't matter all that much.

When he made it to the end of the anti-Apparition wards, he popped off to the Apparition point in Hogsmeade. He smiled grimly so himself.

_Time to have some fun._

**AN: Song was Monster, by Cellofourte, album A Strings Tribute to Skillet. And sorry, but I completely specialize in depressing and/or weird short stories, so…**

**No beta, and not even a second reading. Just a random plot bunny-thought-thing I had. My fingers were itching for the keyboard… Please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes, plot holes, or clichés… As I said, I didn't even read through it for a brief spell-check or anything.**


End file.
